A Romanian girl in London

My sister and I facing London street terror with cold blood and deadly weapons

Last night when I came home, I found a homeless in front of my building. He looked rather wasted, yet there was no smell of alcohol. So it was either vodka or drugs. Anyway, I acted casual, even though I was about to pee my pants and I started looking for my key, hating myself for carrying such a gianormous bag in which I can’t find anything in times of peace, with steady hands, not to mention in times of war, with fingers tangling in one another, and also hating the guy for not being homeless in front of another building.

Finally, I found the key, after which seemed like an eternity and a half and then I started trying to unlock the main door. Now I had the homeless behind me, a bit worried I think, because he kept asking me if I were ok. I was mumbling that yes, I was ok, still trying to unlock that damn door, peeking behind from time to time, to see if he is about to attack me or not, somehow being happy for spending all the cash I had with me that day on some lovely dresses, which I figured he wouldn’t steal, I mean, come on, they are dresses.

After another eternity and a half I am finally inside, slamming the door behind me, feeling so safe behind the glass door, as if I had the Chinese Wall between us and an army or two.

I ran upstairs to charge my phone and call my sister, because she was on her way home as well and I knew her scream would had been heard from space if she saw that guy in front of the building. By the way, have you noticed how your battery is always low in times of crisis? God forbid I have to call the emergency number at the end of the day, after talking, texting, facebooking, whatsapping, googling, taking pictures the entire day. Also, I don’t know the emergency number in UK.

Back to my story. So, I called my sister and I started explaining her what was going on, telling her to have her key ready, to walk by fast and say nothing etc. But she freaked out instantly: what? in front of our building? drunk? on drugs? I will scream! I am scared! come down and pick me up!

Therefore we agreed to call me when she was getting close. Which she did. I decided to carry a weapon, just in case, so I grabbed a deodorant from the bathroom. I was smart enough to choose a spray deodorant, not a roll on deodorant, yet I wasn’t smart enough to go further to the kitchen and get a knife. Or at least a pair of scissors.

I hurried downstairs and my sister was already inside. I was late for the rescue operation, damn it. The poor homeless guy kept asking us if we were ok and he felt so bad for all this war strategy we put together that he apologized and said he was gonna go find a spot behind the building. I forgot to tell you, my sister was ready to use her keys as a weapon. We were invincible!

Then my sister started complaining how I was always late, even for saving her life, that she was lucky, because if it were for me, she would have been already stabbed and dead by now. Which would have sucked, because I had laundry to do that night and I don’t know how to turn on the washing machine.

Good thing I didn’t order it :))) I saw your last message but I totally forgot to reply to you. I am so sorry! The thing is I like other paintings more than the one with the houses, so once I will have budget for one of them, I will let you know. Christmas shopping left me quite thin, I’ll need some time to pull myself together. In the meantime I will keep checking your work, I LOVE it!

Here people are polite and kind to each other, even if they don’t like you much. It is part of the culture and hearing “please” and “sorry” day after day you learn to be like that as well. Being polite, just like being rude, is addictive 🙂